


i'm frozen in just the wrong time

by wickedlittleoz



Series: all the roads lead back to you [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feelings Realization, Flashbacks, M/M, Near Death, Post-Season/Series 02, The Upside Down, Unbeta'd, again as always, bad tags, not a lot of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22665433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedlittleoz/pseuds/wickedlittleoz
Summary: The hands in his watch haven't moved past 2:15, but Steve knows he's been in the tunnels for a while.So he keeps on running, unaware of what awaits him.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: all the roads lead back to you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1141595
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	i'm frozen in just the wrong time

It's dark. The batteries in his flashlight have long died, so he doesn't know where he's headed, yet Steve runs.

He's been running for some time.

The air down here is humid and cold, and makes it feel like there's mold growing in his lungs and clinging to his throat. He can't breathe, and he knows running around like a madman won't help it, but he can't stop because whenever he does, the quietness of this place echoes louder than the beating of his heart and within seconds he's panicking. Like those creatures of his nightmares are creeping in the shadows, just waiting for a chance to jump, take him, eat him, _kill him_.

So he keeps on running, unaware of what awaits him.

At one point he loses track of time.

He knows it was around 2:15am when he propped up the metal lid protecting the hole to the Upside Down, when he shone down his flashlight onto the tunnels, when a voice in the back of his head went _what if we just jumped?._

Then the flashlight slipped from his cold-rigid fingers; it fell spinning into the hole, casting lights in a circle that went lower every second, but in slow motion.

He didn't expect to be shut inside. He didn't expect the floor to simply close above him while he scrambled, searching for the flashlight in that god awful place. He didn't expect to be stuck---but now he is, and there's no light here, ever, there's no sun, no morning, so he has no idea how long it's been and if someone-- _anyone_ \--has figured out he's missing and gone looking for him.

Ever since that little girl of Hopper's closed the gate, he, the Chief of police and Jonathan have taken turns checking up on the hole that Will found. Making sure the portal hasn't reopened and let back in another horde of monsters.

Eventually, Billy Hargrove joined the gang, much to basically everyone's dislike. 

He and Steve still don't talk much. Before _that_ _night_ , even while Steve ignored him most of the time, Hargrove pushed. Now, he's just as invisible to Hargrove as he pretends the boy is to him.

Still, Steve learns (through a few nights awating outside the arcade for the kids and sharing the cold winter air, cigarettes and lighters) that his company, albeit quiet, is good. Tranquilizing.

He kinda regrets not taking Hargrove up on his offer to help with tonight's patrol.

The hands in his watch haven't moved past 2:15, but Steve knows he's been in the tunnels for a while. Exhaustion comes, but adrenaline hits harder, and he _knows_ it's been hours, maybe a whole day--- _has_ to be, because otherwise no one would have reason to worry about him---He just can't tell how long; it's like time has stopped in here, the way it's always dark and he's always moving, but never actually arriving someplace new. It's only the clammy tunnels as far as the eyes can see and the legs will take you.

Gravity also doesn't have the same pull it normally would--- _should_. Sometimes he kicks at gravel and it hovers midair, waiting to see his next move.

It's usually sprinting away in the opposite direction.

His thoughts go to all the people he loves and are now living in a different dimmension---and god, isn't it messed up to think of _dimmensions_ when he can't even explain what they are supposed to _be_. Multiple realities, the fabric of time and space, all curling and uncurling and now separating him from his friends.

From _Nance_.

The problem, Steve realizes when he starts to grimace at all the morbid thoughts, cringing with pain in his chest as Nance's face fills his mind, is that he is alone. And loneliness has always been an issue.

From the absence of his parents, through long, terrifying nights wondering if whatever got Barb will someday get to him, to days of emptiness post _bullshit_. Nancy still haunts his dreams the same way the Demo-monsters do, expect that she comes with smiles and piercing blue eyes and the promise of a white-picket-fence-future, ruined by Steve's insecurities and lack of...

 _Something_.

He still hasn't figured out what exactly.

The more he thinks about it, the farther from the realization he gets, because---and he's not proud of himself for this---what could Byers offer that he couldn't double, triple, maybe. Sure, Jonathan is someone he can consider a friend now, but they'll always have that between them, and Steve---well, he's not _King_ anymore, but he's a decent guy. He got her _flowers_.

Even Hargrove said that, a couple nights ago, as they sat curled around cigarettes and a bottle of his father's favorite whiskey, waiting for the kids to finish a game session in his living room. Hargrove muttered, as if afraid he'd scare Steve away if he spoke any louder, _so it's true you and the princess broke up_ , and Steve just nodded, bitter and silent, stared into the corner where Barb disappeared and wondered if it had been worth it. All of it.

"Well," Hargrove blew a cloud of smoke up into the air before fixing Steve with a long glare, "she's done some stupid shit since I met her, but that takes the cake."

Steve frowned at that, perked up to defend her---her honor or something, really, he just wasn't the guy who sat around talking shit about girls anymore, and he still loved her, too.

But before he could actually voice any of those thoughts, Hargrove smirked, a simple quirk of his lips that lit up his eyes in the dark, and continued: "What, between Byers and _King Steve_? Anyone would be dumb if they turned down royalty."

He was gone after that, clasping his hand to Steve's shoulder as he got to his feet and barged into the house calling Max to leave.

Steve doesn't think about Hargrove much, except that he used to be a player and he knows game when he sees it, but 2 and 2 aren't really 4 when _punching his face in_ , _getting on with a different girl every weekend_ and _flirting with him_ are in the equation.

He's sure Hargrove isn't into him; it's all just healthy humor between dudes.

He falls asleep, eventually. His body hurts in a variety of places when Steve slumps to the ground, coiled into himself in a dark corner, a place he's managed to convince himself he's well-hidden in.

His eyelids are lead, his mind, electronic static. Breath comes hard; it feels like the spores that hover on the air here have clung to the walls in his lungs, forming lumps. When he swallows, he can _feel_ them.

Yet, tiredness gets the best of him.

In his dreams, he sees green fields and blue skies. He can almost feel actual warmth, staring up at summer skies that are still so many months away.

He sees golden curls and laughter blooms in his ears. Hears the sound of sneakers on polished floor and the thump of a basketball.

_Plant your feet. Draw a charge._

_Don't fall asleep._

Someone touches his shoulders; he feels firm fingers digging into his skin, then grabbing at his jaw. The touch feels _real_ , more real than the warmth of the supposed sun. He searches for the hands, hears a distant voice call his name.

A sudden moment of clarity---If he's delirious, then this is it. No _I love you_ s. No _goodbye_ s. Burried in an interdimensional tunnel, surrounded by the stank of death. This is how _King Steve_ goes.

On a final attempt to stay awake, he looks up and sees eyes of a lighter blue than the sky, crystal clear, nebulas of concern clouding the gaze.

It's not Nancy's name that rises to his lips.

When he comes to, everything around him is white and his first thought is _there's no way I made it to Heaven_.

But then there are hands on his arms and his mother's voice, shaky with tears, calling for help, her son's awake.

So he must be alive.

He blinks up until Hellen's face comes into focus, face washed up in relief even through the tears. Within seconds the room is filled with people and nurses asking them to leave, the kids all but spilling through the door.

One of the nurses comes up to check on him and after a few small tests, smiles. Her graying hair and soft eyes are a reassurance. "You gave us quite the scare, kid," she chirps and walks around the bed to speak to his mom about when he can leave and what will be needed.

Steve's not paying attention. Nancy comes into view when the nurse leaves, her face torn up between worry and guilt. Jonathan is at her side and the pang in his heart is almost enough to send him reeling right back into unconsciousness.

But just then there's a small commotion, yelps and complaints from the kids, and Hargrove emerges from the group, Max at tow.

His face is clear, no sign of the mask that usually clouds his emotions, and Steve sees the concern in his eyes, those crystal blue irises that---he remembers suddenly---had kept him going when he thought he was dying down in the tunnels.

Hargrove halts for a moment, hesistates; pushes back at his curls and the mask slips right back on. But he still surges forward to sit on the bed next to Steve's legs.

"Damn Harrington, you _klutz_ ," he says through careful pats on Steve's left knee. His voice is strained, caculated; Steve's surprised to realize that he knows Hargrove enough to understand how he's holding back his feelings.

His mother chuckles at his other side and the moment fades. She pushes at the hair on his forehead, chuckle turning to a sob. "Yes... He's always been such a klutz..."

She's talking to herself, he realizes, because her eyes are distant. Steve grabs at her free hand, but turns his attention back to Hargrove.

His hand has stilled on Steve's knee; it lingers.

"Thanks", Steve says a couple days later, when it's night again and the rain has just let up, so Hargrove and him are sitting out beside his pool again.

His parents had to leave on a business trip two days after he made it back home from the hospital, but not before annoying Hopper and Mrs. Byers into agreeing to check on him every day, and Steve himself into agreeing to call every night.

He's done his duty tonight and the kids are enjoying the warmth of his fireplace, playing another game of D&D while Billy keeps him company.

He's the one who checks up on Steve most.

"For what?" Hargrove mutters, brows furrowed.

Steve smiles quietly, more to himself, searches for Hargrove's hand with the excuse of passing the cigarette. Lets his fingers linger on Hargrove's palm, like he did that day at the hospital with his hand on Steve's knee.

"You were there, right? When Hopper found me?" Their eyes meet; Steve's breath is knocked away, as it always is now. "I remember seeing you, for a split of second."

Hargrove's eyebrows shoot up. "You were awake?"

"I was..." He thinks, shakes his head. "Something inbetween. Don't remember much, but I do remember..."

He fades, blushing. Hargrove seems to take the hint; soft color paints his cheeks as well.

Steve coughs to ease the moment away. "Well, thanks, anyway."

There's a brief silence and Steve is almost afraid to look at the other boy.

Because what he said isn't the whole truth, yet he doesn't feel ready to share everything. All that he had seen in Hargrove's eyes, the fear, the anger, the hurt, the--- _affection_.

All that he had seen in his own mind eye, how Hargrove's name had been the last thing he wanted to say when he thought he was dying, how he had been in Steve's dream urging him to _fight, stay alive_.

A hand on his shoulder and he's brought back to the present, to Hargrove hoisting himself up and saying, "Yeah, you know. Gotta keep the King safe."

And Steve wants to follow him into the house, he does. Wants to wipe that smirk from his face with a kiss. 

But this is 1984 and Steve is still recovering and Billy---Billy is _straight_. He's done the math before.

So he rests back on his chair, stares up at the stars and the storm clouds still blowing away to reveal a new moon, and thinks, with a sad smile and a bittersweet flavor on his tongue,

_maybe another time,_

_maybe another life._

**Author's Note:**

> Back in parts 1 and 2 of this series, there are brief mentions of Steve getting stuck in the tunnels (you know, that Will leads them to in season 2). This that story.  
> I've always wanted to write more to this series, but it's been a little hard to find my muse, so I'm glad to be able to deliver this.  
> Do I wish it were longer? Yes.  
> Do I wish it was more detailed? Yes, very much.  
> But I've learned to respect my limitations and life has been rough on me lately, so we work with what we have LOL
> 
> Title from Keane's Walnut Tree.
> 
> Thought it would be kind of nice (honestly aimed at ~poetic~ lmao pathetic) to bring back the idea of right people/wrong time, you know, from the ending of _taking chances_. Since these are all centered on Steve, anyway.  
> And yes, I have plans to write on this AU from Billy's POV as well. Don't give up on me just yet, please XD
> 
> Thanks for reading it! Find me on Tumblr @wickedlittleoz as well.  
> Love, xx.


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